To Conquer Mr. Darcy

intensification of his dreams, both sleeping and waking, and his imagination had proved remarkably adept at recalling how it felt to kiss her. Restraint! he cautioned himself. You are incredibly fortunate that she seems inclined to give you what you desire—let her do it in her own time! He dressed with unusual care, whistling all the while, to the bemusement of his manservant, Wilkins. At last satisfied with his appearance, he set off.

Elizabeth, having awoken to the same thoughts and meditations that had at length closed her eyes the previous night, was contemplating the possibility that love was incompatible with a good night’s sleep, a proposition Darcy would have seconded, had he been aware of her opinion. Dreams of a Pemberley that was an even grander and more pretentious version of Rosings were interspersed with confusing sensations of kisses where she felt a longing for something more, but knew not what, leaving her embarrassed by her desires when she finally awoke. She was anxious to see Darcy, yet worried by her wishes and the noticeable softening in her feelings towards him. She reminded herself that it would be difficult to feel unkindly toward a man after the intimacy of crying in his arms, but she could not credit this as responsible for the change.

She felt a certain pleasurable kind of anxiety as she walked out, and wondered how the time with him would go. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a dark form ahead in the grove where they had agreed to meet, and she hurried forward until she could see the look of passionate welcome in his eyes.

Accustomed to subdued greetings from Elizabeth, Darcy experienced a burst of pleasure when she smiled on seeing him. God knew he never had a clue as to what she was thinking of him, but surely this had to be a good sign. Advancing toward her, he took both of her hands in his and pressed a kiss on each one. “Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she said, with a hint of her impudent smile.

If you keep looking at me like that, my love, I am going to disgrace myself by trying to make my dreams a reality, he thought. “Have you a destination in mind for us today?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding. The place she had in mind was secluded, but he seemed to be in a relatively restrained mood, so she thought it would be safe enough. She led him along little-used footpaths to a small wood, which they skirted briefly before following what appeared to be a deer trail between the trees. As Darcy ducked under low-hanging branches, he wondered if she knew what she was about in taking him to such an isolated spot. Part of him believed that she had not given the matter a thought, but another part insisted on hoping that her desires matched his.

She stopped when they came to a small clearing where a stream ran beneath two large willows. He saw her glance at him as if to gauge his reaction, and wondered if this was a test of some sort. Stepping toward the stream, he parted the boughs of one of the willows to discover a sheltered space, and just beyond it, a grassy bank leading down to the water’s edge. Looking back at her, he said, “This is a lovely hideaway. Did you discover it?” He was gratified to see a pleased smile on her face. Evidently his reaction was satisfactory.

“It is my retreat.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said softly, noting a look of warmth in her eyes that made his resolutions that much more difficult to keep. In search of a distraction, he noticed the ribbons of her bonnet blowing gently in the wind. Almost without thought he reached over to her and untied them, noticing that she lifted her chin to permit his action. He raised his hands to her temples and gently removed the bonnet. He noted that her hair was looped up in a simpler style than usual. Presumably she had left Longbourn before the servants were available to style it. His fingers itched to discover what it would take to make it come down. Tracing a line down her cheek with his fingers, he was delightfully startled when she turned her face into his hand and kissed it lightly.

Elizabeth found the silence mesmerizing as he looked at her intently, apparently waiting to see what she would do next. How could the simple act of removing my bonnet move me so? she asked herself. Already she had exposed more of herself than made her comfortable by bringing him to a place so special to her, and her present reaction to him only increased her uncomfortable sense of vulnerability. Not trusting herself to speak, she took his hand and led him to the bank of the stream. When she came to the edge where there was a bit of a scramble to reach the water, he held her back while he went ahead, and then lifted her down.

She laughed as she looked up at him, his hands still resting on her waist. “Mr. Darcy, I have managed to do this on my own for many years!”

“Are you trying to deprive me of excuses to hold you?”

With a playful look, she freed herself, and, with the ease of long practice, held up her skirts and began to cross the shallow stream, stepping gingerly from rock to rock. Part way across, she reached down and ran her fingers through the cool water, then, with an impudent smile, flicked her fingers to send a spray of droplets in his direction. At the look of feigned outrage on his face, she continued her journey at a more rapid pace as he set off in pursuit of her, his long legs giving him an advantage outweighing her greater knowledge of the route. Just before she reached the opposite bank, he caught her hand, causing her to reel precariously to keep her balance.

“I believe that I have you at a disadvantage, Miss Bennet,” he said mischievously.

“How so, sir?”

“Why, in that my boots are higher than the water is deep, whereas yours are not,” he said, with a challenge in his eye. Elizabeth, unable to resist, pulled sharply at his hand, causing him to stumble into the water. He continued, “See, I am completely protected. You, on the other hand, have placed yourself at grave risk.”

Laughing, she tried to pull her hand away, but with a firm tug, he caused her to overbalance, then swept her up in his arms before she could fall. “And now, Miss Bennet, I have you at my mercy, since if you try to escape from me, you will certainly end up wet.”

Elizabeth, already feeling completely at his mercy owing to the overwhelming flood of sensation from the way he was holding her, said archly, “And what do you intend to do with me, then, Mr. Darcy?”

He bent his head to trace kisses along her neck, so conveniently available to him in this position, and caressed her leg with the fingers of his hand supporting her knees, causing exquisite feelings of pleasure to run through her. “I am certain that I can think of something,” he murmured as he moved his mouth to capture hers.

“And what will happen if I refuse to cooperate in your nefarious schemes?” she retorted between breathtaking kisses.

“Then it is into the water with you,” he said, making as if to toss her. She shrieked and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“You would not dare!”

“Actually, Miss Bennet,” he said, finding her close embrace to be vastly appealing, “I think that you would look remarkably fetching when wet. Of course, then I would feel obliged to find some way to keep you warm so you would not take a chill, and naturally it would take some time for your clothes to dry, but I am certain that I could think of some way to pass the time…”

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her cheeks scarlet at his forwardness, but he resumed kissing her with an ardor that left her with no desire to resist him.

“In fact,” he murmured roguishly, “I find the idea so appealing that perhaps I should seek out deeper water to allow greater efficiency.” He started to walk upstream.

“No!” she cried. “I surrender, I surrender!”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken,” he said, kissing her enticingly. “Now, since you are my prisoner, I believe that it is my right to demand a ransom before setting you free.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught at the idea of what he might request, even in jest. “What did you have in mind, sir?” she said, pleased that her voice did not tremble.

Thoughtfully, he allowed his eyes to sweep slowly over her from head to foot, his possessive, examining look sending tingling sensations of excitement throughout her body, then met her eyes with a slight smile on his face. “I demand that you let your hair down,” he told her, a rakish smile playing across his face.

He had chosen well, he thought. It was an intimate request, and it would fulfill one of his favorite fantasies, yet was not overly compromising. He watched the reaction flow across her face until she returned his gaze with a challenging one of her own. “Done, sir,” she said. “Now pray return me safely to dry land.”

“At your service,” he said, fulfilling her request. She immediately scrambled up the bank, and sat in the soft